the 1975
by georgiastark
Summary: The Avengers. They're the worlds greatest heroes. They're strong, they're brave, they hold the world on their shoulders. They're also pretty fucked up.
1. Me - Tony

**Ha.**

 **I don't own Tony Stark or any of the characters mentioned, nor do I own the song (Me by the 1975)**

 **Trigger Warning as well; this story will be discussing some really dark thoughts from Tony's head, and this song is a little depressing and has some lyrics discussing suicide. So, be careful. Take care of yourself, my dears. Your mental health is more important than reading some story.**

 **Enjoy:**

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 ** _I got a plane in the middle of the night, don't you mind_**

No one was in the house his first night back. He was alone. He was alone in his dirty shirt, dirty pants, dirty shoes and socks. His hair was falling all over the place, and his hands were shaking, his nails still had dirt hidden under them. Pepper was away, fixing his mistakes. It hadn't taken him long to fuck up. Rhodey was angry at him, for reasons he had no idea why.

And he was alone. Staring at a computer screen, studying what was going on in his body. Trying to figure out if he was going to die. His fingers hitting the table, drumming. His knees jumping up and down in an anxious attempt to keep his mind quiet.

But it didn't work. There was a creak in the house, and he clutched his chest. His breathing too rapid to make sense. He had no idea what was going on, freaking out more and more. His vision was so blurry. He stood up, walking around and trying to figure out what was happening. His hearing was all out, the was ringing so god damned loud. His hands were shaking, he was terrified. He didn't understand. He didn't understand. He kept walking, hand on the wall, trailing around. Whipping his head back and forth trying to find out what was happening, where the sound came from.

Then there was another creak and he shit himself, almost screaming in utter terror. He whipped himself around, eyes searching through the clouded vision. He needed to understand what the noises where. But he couldn't. He started hyperventilating, his breathing shuddering, his chest tightening so much. He clenched it again, clenching the shirt on his chest tightly. He leant against the wall, trying to calm himself down. He'd never experienced this. He'd have moments of small anxiety around his father, but never this. he didn't understand. He kept focusing, trying to calm himself but it didn't work. His breathing became more and more strained. It became harder to breathe.

Then, he fainted and hit his head.

 ** _I nearly killed somebody, don't you mind, don't you mind_**

Sitting in the newly named Avengers tower. Natasha was sitting at a bar, sipping water with a toasted sandwich next to her. Steve was sitting on the couch, watching Tony.

Tony was staring straight ahead, a million thoughts rushing through his head. He couldn't believe what was going on. He had killed a child. Accidentally, he was trying so hard to protect everyone and didn't realise that when he threw a ship into the building. A part of it had fallen. And killed a kid.

He killed a fucking _child_. A small, innocent child. He had fucking murdered it with his stupidity. He'd tried so hard, but not hard enough. He was trying to protect everyone, and now he had killed someone. He'd killed a child. Someone who didn't understand what was happening, or what was going on. Someone who had parents who loved, and adored them.

And he'd personally ended their lives.

"Tony?" Steve's worried voice filled his ears, breaking his rush of thoughts. "Are you okay?"

He wasn't sure how to react, so he just shrugged. Steve continued to speak, explaining something he had done accidentally in the 40s, and Nat joined in. They somehow knew what was going on in his head, and they were trying to make him feel better. Somehow, without telling them what was happening, or even letting them into his head. They knew him. They tried to help. Give him supportive smiles. Nat learnt his favourite food and would make it sometimes, Steve would then take over because Nat only burnt the food.

But they made him smile, and feel a bit better.

 ** _I gave you something you can never give back, don't you mind_**

He had built them a pool. But he never went in. It took him three months to get comfortable with just sitting on the same floor as the pool, and watching his friends splash around. He wasn't sure if he could ever get in the pool.

They all constantly asked him "why? Come join us! It will be fun!" But he refused. He preferred to watch them, sit near the pool.

He was nearly asleep one day, dozing under the hot sun when he was woken up but a too familiar splashing. He sat up straight, his vision blurring completely. He punched whoever was in front of him, and tried running forward, but he fell.

He fell into the pool. He gasped, fighting whoever was trying for him, but he couldn't find up. He couldn't get out of the pool.

Hands he couldn't see grabbed him, forcing him backwards. The second he could breathe real air he struck out. Fighting the people around him.

He didn't stop fighting until a soft voice hit his ears, a soft hand. He leant into the soft voice. Calming himself down. He curled into the voice, their hair touching his shoulder. They didn't shy away, but it wasn't Pepper. Right now, he didn't care. Their touch was soothing and calming. They seemed to understand what was happening, almost more than Pepper.

It was only once he was calm did he realise that he had been cuddling Natasha _fucking_ Romanoff, and she was the one to calm him and that he had had a pretty bad flashback in front of his entire team.

He had no other choice than to leave for the tower, going down to the Lab. Bruce joined him, sitting quietly in Tony's lab, not asking or questioning what was happening. Just sitting, watching Tony work away until he quietly explained he had been experiencing panic attacks, extreme anxiety and flashbacks since Afghanistan. He added, almost as an afterthought, that he was quite depressed.

 ** _You've seen your face like a heart attack, don't you mind, don't you mind_**

"I'm going to sleep downstairs, tinker with that." He was stone cold. Sitting, staring outside, only at the city lights, trying not let his gaze drift upwards. Tony Stark was terrified. He was scared, and he didn't understand.

He was pushing her away again, he always did it. When he was struggling, he pushed her away. He pushed everyone anyway. Now he was shoving her away, and holding her at arm's length. It was scary, seeing her walk down the stairs, away from him. He wanted to reach out and grab her and beg her to stay.

But she was scared. And now he was awake again. It was 4 am, he slept 3 hours at most. He never slept anymore. He couldn't sleep. He was struggling so much. He was terrified of the dark now. He had to sleep in light. His sheets couldn't cover the arch reactor. There _had_ to be a source of light. He couldn't be completely covered either. He wasn't exactly sure why he couldn't be covered, but it was a massive trigger. And it always ended it horrific panic attacks.

He walked down the stairs, Pepper was asleep on the couch. He snuck behind her, wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. She woke up for a second, pushing him away but he wouldn't let go, almost begging her to not let him, let her go.

"Please." He mumbled. She stopped pushing, reaching behind him to stroke his hair. "I'm struggling."

 ** _I was late, but I arrived; I'm sorry, but I'd rather be getting high than watching my family_** ** _die_**

He was late to their date. Only a bit late. Pepper looked almost murderous. She barely talked to him, not listening to his reasoning (he was with the avengers and something had triggered Steve and they had to calm him down). She said it didn't matter. He said it did. She said he needed to focus on her. She needed him to focus on her. He said he was, he was focusing on her. Focusing on keeping her safe. He said he couldn't lose her, he said he was terrified of losing her. He was almost begging her. But she wasn't listening. Claiming she needed him present, and needed him to actually be with her. Because making her suits, making her safe wasn't being with her. It wasn't the thing she wanted. He tried, saying he needed her to be safe. He was trying. He wasn't sleeping, he wasn't sleeping at all and he was tinkering. She chastised him for caring more about the Avengers than her.

Then he left the date. He didn't know why, but he walked out. She was pissed, he was angry. And he couldn't deal with that at the moment. She had texted him when he was back inside his house, claiming she needed a break and that's what the entire date was about. She was sick of him refusing to say 'I love you'. He wanted to throw his phone off the house, but he didn't. He sat with his friends, showed Nat the text. She rubbed his back, told him to better himself without her. Steve gave him a sorry smile, and Bruce took the phone off his hands, saying he didn't need it.

And then, they all got high together. Finally, the Avengers, sitting together, calmly. Not with millions of stressed thoughts rushing through their busy heads. Without stress, without worrying about danger. It was the Avengers, but it was the Avengers being calm.

 ** _Exaggerate and you and I; Oh I think I did something terrible to your body, don't you mind_**

He loved dancing. Pepper loved it more. He knew it made her happy, so he got lessons. Got lessons, taught himself how to dance classically. And he came home one night, turning on a softer song, and held out his hand, allowing her to take it. He pulled her up, holding her waist and hand, dancing softly.

Tony pulled his best friend closer, resting his head on her shoulder, her doing the same. She was swaying slowly. The song changed, to one that she loved so much, and they continued dancing around the house, Pepper whispering to him, muttering she loved him, Tony kissing her, muttering stuff about how he was still horrific at dancing.

A more upbeat song came up next, and she pulled away but kept their hands connected, moving to the beat of the song, almost begging him to follow. And he did. It was the first time in months that he truly smiled at her. He felt so happy, watching her dance, jig her head to the beat. Holding hands, acting like teens who got the alcohol and needed to dance it all away.

It was one of their better weeks. It was their first week back together after a month-long break. A break of constant nightmares, with the final week of him calling her _shaking_ and begging her to stay safe. He was so scared that he was going to lose her, and now she was back in his arms and the threat was even worse. She was back under the public eye.

But he loved her, and she was dancing in his arms. Dancing around the kitchen, cooking food. Smacking his butt as she went past him. He smiled at his partner. He was back. She was back. He was feeling good again.

 ** _I put your mother through hell, don't you mind_**

Pepper's mother worried about her, being with a Stark and all. She worried more when Pepper told her she was in love with the man, even more, when he continuously risked his life, for everyone. She watched the TV at night, watching her daughter's partner fly through the sky, fighting all the evil he could. Fighting creations of others. She watched in horror, one evening, as her daughter flashed on the screen, and Stark flew in, grabbing her, flying her away. She had seen her daughter in the line of fire, because of Tony _fucking_ Stark.

She sat down with him one night, basically broke into Stark's house, sitting down with him.

"Don't you ever think about hurting my daughter." She had begun. Stark looked almost taken back, stating he wouldn't ever hurt her, and tried to protect her every moment of the day. She doubted him, scoffing. She told him she'd seen her daughter on the TV, seen her almost dying. His eyes closed, he tried to explain he was trying to protect her the best he could. He took her down to his lab, showed him a section of the lab he'd dedicated to protecting Pepper. Suits. So many suits. Suits for every danger he could think up of. He was spending hours trying to protect her.

"You need to be with her. That's protecting her." Pepper's mum explained. He shook his head, fingers fighting with each other as he grew more anxious. His still hadn't told Pepper he loved her. He was struggling so much with it, and he hoped to show her mum this collection, this corner all for her would show her mum he adored her daughter. He tried explaining that he couldn't lose her, he would lose his mind if he lost her. He had to protect her.

But her mother still worried about her daughter and that Stark man.

 ** _I hurt your brother as well, don't you mind, don't you mind_**

Tony was a pusher. He pushed people. Away. He saw someone getting close to him and all the alarm bells went off and he's like " _FUCK IT_ " and pushed them away. He held them at arm's length and refused to allow them to get closer.

He guesses that it was probably his upbringing that scared him off closeness. As a kid, he was forced to tell the press his feelings, but then hit if he actually let off what happened. His parents demanded he is open to the press, but not too open. Demanded he only told himself what was going on. He wasn't allowed to be close.

He wasn't even allowed to be close to his parents. He never learnt how to be close. At 16, his dad lectured him for hours because Tony had mentioned he had a friend. He wasn't allowed to have friends. Only business partners. Friends were something he couldn't do. He wasn't allowed to do. A girlfriend? Only for business. A best friend? Only for business. He wasn't allowed closeness as a ground rule. So he never learnt. He never learnt how to let walls down. He never learnt how to grow close to someone straight away. Rhodey was his first actual friend. He was young too and saw Tony for what he actually was. He made him laugh sometimes and helped Tony through the harder times at school (and in the future, he helped Tony more than literally anyone ever could. Pulling him through darker days, begging for them all to continue searching for his friend, nearly (completely) breaking down sobbing when they actually found Tony).

He was intelligent, but only with technology. Learning to be open, learning to open himself up was so fucking hard. And he didn't know if he could do it.

 ** _Oh I was thinking 'bout killing myself, don't you mind, don't you mind_**

He wouldn't admit it. He never would. He wouldn't admit that he once sat with a gun in his hand, shaking so much. He would never admit that he stared death in the face. It was years ago, he assured himself. He was 18, he was upset, he was struggling. His mum just died, he was angry. So fucking angry. He blamed himself, he blamed the world.

And he wanted out of it. He wanted to leave his life because he was so over it. He was so over everything that caused him pain. He was over fighting with his (then) boyfriend. He couldn't handle the constant fighting, so he left. Without really discussing what was happening. He texts him a week later, explaining he was sorry, but wanted to end the relationship. He was so deep into his own head, and his own thoughts, no one could get through to him. He was gone to the world. Lost in his own head, too dissociated to move around, or actually focus on others and feel real. He wasn't feeling okay. He was feeling so disgusting and revolting.

It was after his second attempt that he decided he didn't need people (his first was holding the gun and then throwing it in the bin. His second was drinking himself to near death and then taking a handful of prescription meds. He woke up in a hospital). He was told he needs help, needs a therapist. Rhodey was the first one who started supporting him, sitting next to his friend and offering to help.

But Anthony Edward Stark did not need a therapist. He did not need any outside help. He needed himself, and himself only. He was fine.

 ** _I love you, don't you mind, don't you mind_**

Tony Stark couldn't say I love you. Pepper said it a few months into them dating. He just nodded, and kissed her in response, having to explain how much he struggled to say 'I love you', that he struggled to trust people. It pissed her off at first, but then she realised he did love her.

He listened to her, he did what made her happy. He learnt what made her smile, and he did that. He learnt what she loved the most, and he gave her that.

She told him one night, as they cuddled, that he did he didn't need to say it. That she knew. He couldn't respond. He stood there, unable to say the words back. He was sitting with her, cuddled up on the couch (it was something they did a lot) when she turned and said she didn't expect him to say 'I love you'. She didn't expect him to force himself to say something he didn't want to. He could wait because she didn't need it. But still couldn't respond when she said that, holding her super close, mumbling saying thank you.

He finally said it, while they were fighting, as stupid as it was. Pepper was pissed that he rarely spent time around anyone, he only worked. He couldn't hold himself together, he was running on three days without sleep. He couldn't sleep anymore. She was asking why he was never there, yelling at him. He snapped; "Because I fucking love you, and I can't live without you. And, and I love them, and I can't live without them. For fuck's sake, don't you see? I love you so. I love you so much and every day I wake up terrified that somethings going to happen to you because they exist. I have, I have nightmares. Of you. Of you dying. Of them dying. Aliens fucking exist and, and what if? What. What if they hurt you? What, how. How can... How can I deal?" He was stuttering, and she was hugging him now, already muttering words of comfort, trying to calm the threatening panic attack. "I love you, Peps."

"I love you most."

 ** _I put your mother through hell, don't you mind_**

Pepper was at a dinner with her father. Leaving her mother and Tony alone again. Tony, was worried. He had only just told Pepper he loved her. And he was terrified about it. He was struggling with his head, and wanting to protect himself, his feelings and fling his walls up again, but also need to not lose her. He had come close to losing her to his stupidity before and he was terrified

Her mum must have known because the first thing she said was; "Why didn't you say it earlier? She thought you didn't love her."

"She knew. I did everything to show I loved her. I'm sorry, I can't explain why I couldn't say. But I couldn't. It scared the shit out of me, Mrs Potts."

"But why?"

He couldn't explain why. He just knew he couldn't. For ages, he couldn't muster the courage. He'd whisper it to her when she slept. The nights were he spent in the lab, working until ungodly hours trying to protect her, and then crawled into bed, looking at her for a few moments, muttering he loved her. But saying it to her awake and aware was so different. He had almost said it a few times. Watching her cook, bustling around the kitchen. He mumbled it to himself, her ears pricked. Asking what he had said. He said nothing. But he had mumbled, "God, I love you." He really did love Pepper Potts, and he had to explain it to her mother, without actually, really explaining it.

Mrs Potts knew he loved her. She stopped worrying when he greeted her at the door, mumbling something in her ear that made her daughter smile and pushes him away. She stopped worrying when she saw him light up when he was around her. She stopped worrying when she saw the text from her daughter saying he was present again. She didn't worry about her daughter and that Stark man much anymore.

 ** _I hurt your brother as well, don't you mind, don't you mind_**

His drinking hurt his friends. Steve and Bruce hated it. They hated finding their friend laying on the ground, almost dead from drinking so much. They hated watching him down glass after glass of liquor. Watching their close friend almost kill himself from drinking.

Steve understood a bit he guessed. He knew where that want came from. He understood that drinking calmed the anxieties, calmed the racing thoughts, calmed all the shell-shock that threw him and all his friends around. Bruce did not understand. He never could understand drinking for the purpose of being drunk. He understood drinking, he loved a good drink. But he stopped so much, and now? He didn't. He had other coping mechanisms, and he understood with that (weed was great, he had to admit it and he was trying to convince Tony to smoke with him sometimes).

They wanted to help their friend. Stop the addiction. Stop the drinking before it got out of hand. They had to help their friend learn to cope without drinking.

Tony thought, he did not have an addiction, and drinking was a perfectly healthy coping mechanism. Until he drunk so much he walked to the pool and fell in, Steve and Bruce barely managing to pull the drunk, panicked man out without hurting themselves and him. He was stuck panting on the side of terror, Steve's hand on his back, muttering soft calming statements. He really wasn't doing well still. He couldn't seem to cope and be okay. He wasn't sure why, or what was actually going on, but his brain hated him, and he hated his brain. He was sick and tired. And maybe he did need some help.

 ** _Oh I was thinking 'bout killing myself, don't you mind, don't you mind_**

He was sitting on the floor of his apartment. No one was home with him. JARVIS was shut off, and he was feeling shit. The actual day hadn't been so bad, all his friends were smiling at each other, hugging him and such. He didn't feel shitty all day. He didn't feel depressed. Which was interesting. He was excited. He was laughing with them. He was sitting by the pool even. He refused to get in, and his friend knew now and didn't mind too much. He sat away from the water, laughing as his friend fought each other in the water. They asked, sometimes, if he wanted to join, but he didn't. During dinner, it rained. He freaked, ran back inside. He didn't understand anymore. He was fine for months and months and hadn't panicked in rain in so long. Natasha had taken him home and left to go out again with all the Avengers. And now he was alone. Drinking himself half to death. He was so drunk, falling over himself. His friends were out, they weren't going to get to his floor anyway. He had locked it off. He was feeling good the more he drank, the more alcohol that got into his system made him feel better and better.

Tony Stark, was a fucking mess. He was a grown ass man, who was drinking enough to kill a fucking elephant. Tony Stark had so many issues it was amazing. Drunk Tony Stark considered calling up Guinness Book of World Records for the man with the most issues. He could barely trust her (Pepper). He couldn't trust his friend. He was obsessed with keeping his friends safe. He couldn't lay in the bath, now he couldn't stand in the rain. He couldn't lay in dark rooms.

And now it was New York. His triggers list pilled on. He couldn't look at the stars anymore. She remembered it completely crushed him, as they use to watch the stars together. And now he couldn't.

He really needed her and needed help. And he wasn't accepting it.

 ** _I love you, don't you mind, don't you mind_**

The wedding vows were the hardest thing he had to do. Pepper held his hand as he told all his friends how he felt about the woman standing in front of him. His hand was shaking because he was really letting his walls crumble. The wedding was small, with only the Avengers and some of Pepper's closest friends.

"You've. Uh." He cleared his throat again, gripping her hand tighter. "You've promised me that you'll love me forever, and I've struggled to admit that I know I will, love. Uh." He was stumbling, and Pepper broke the fake wedding rule and pulled him in for a hug.

"You don't need to tell them all this." He shook his head, pulling away, but still holding her hand, her rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb. Slow, calming circles. Her smile was soft, almost egging him on.

"I know I will adore you forever. I promise that I will protect you, and I'll make sure you're safe forever. I promise that I will make decisions with you, for the business and for us. I promise. I promise that I'll learn to smile again for you."

Pepper's smile lit up the room, she gripped his hand tighter.

"My turn. I promise, so much. I think I'll tell you some later, so to." She nudged her head in the direction of his friends. He knew what she meant. Tony was closed off, it was easy to spot, he was detached from the real world most of the time, and having her promise she'd bring him to reality whenever he needed it was a little too obvious that he was messed up. So she promised him other things. She promised she didn't mind being in love with iron man, she loved his nature, she promised she wouldn't leave (he had to resist the urge to hug her then and there). She promised (without saying anxieties) that she would be there, she would quell his worries about abandonment, and death. She promised to be present. Tony couldn't help but interrupt, adding, almost laughing, that he promised to be present as well, stopping tinkering so much. She only laughed and then promised she didn't mind the tinkering. As long as she was involved now. He said he didn't mind.

The room was silent before the priest said you may kiss the bride to Tony. He pulled her in so close, whispering a quick "I adore you" before kissing her, begging her to never let him go. They pulled away, and the cheers from his friends erupted, cheering for their happiness.

Their first dance mirrored one of almost three years ago. A time of repairment, for both of them. For their relationship. Pepper was struggling with the constant thought of losing him, and he was struggling with the thoughts of losing his friends, his army, but mostly her. They let go of each other back then, allowing fears to dictate their futures. Pepper had left, for fear. Fear of attachment and Tony had let her. He was terrified of closeness, of companionship, of being in love. He was scared of saying I love you, and she was scared he never would say it back. They had grown so strong since then, minus a few ups and downs of course. A few breaks, that usually hurt one more than the other. Breaks that Pepper would sit up, worrying about the man she needed space from. She worried about what he was doing, and how he was doing it. She nearly lost her shit when she found out about his fight with Steve, calling him the second he was back, asking if he was okay. That was the last time they took a break. Tony couldn't speak on that call, and she was so broken by his shuddering breathes that she promised to come to find him. Only to hear a knock on her door, and see the man she needed before him.

Their relationship was constantly changing, and it felt good. It felt happy, and it felt so fucking safe. The good safe. Tony trusted that Pepper Stark (nee Potts) with his entire being and she trusted him with her entire being.

Pepper rubbed his back as they danced, thinking about the future together, Tony mumbling her loved her. Pepper only laughing.

"It's funny." She started, "a year ago you couldn't say that. It brought you to panic, and now you've said it about 15 thousand times today."

"I can go back to not saying it." He tried.

She shushed him, "I was only making a point. Anyway, you're extremely handsome today."

He couldn't reply bending down slightly to rest his head on the crock of her neck like they had done so much at home. "You're stunning. You also are official, naming wise, in Stark industries. I think I can give you the entire business now."

"Oh trust you to bring up business now." She retorted, but he knew she was smiling. "Seriously Tony, how did I fall in love with you?" They kept dancing, not noticing when everyone else took the floor, still feeling close, barely pulling away from each other until it was time to eat, and even then their hands were still connected. By the time the night came along, they were exhausted, and only simply held each other, whispering silly things about the business (that she now owned) and futures.

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 **I hope you enjoyed.**

 **Sorry for the depressing nature.**

 **~ Georgia**


	2. Milk - Steve

**Milk – Steve Rogers**

 **Yes, the lyrics are in fact 'she' but using he is more fitting so fight me assholes.**

 **This is not in chronological order, more just sections of Steve's story and mind that fits more with the lyrics.**

 **Also yes, Stucky**

 **Trigger Warning: Mentions of suicidal tendencies**

 **Enjoy;**

* * *

 ** _Straight lines that unwind you_**

Bucky. That's all he could think. The second he saw that face, he nearly panicked. He had been off, so off the past three months. And now he saw Bucky. His old life. He had seen his old friend. His old lover. He was freaking out.

When he got him back, Bucky was scared. He was worried, everything he said, he did, he touched. He was worried. And now he was there. And all Steve could do was hug him, cling to him like a lost child to an officer. He needed his friend. Bucky would wake him up from nightmares, shaking with fear. Muttering what was happening in his head. He told Steve the horrors he saw, the terror he experienced. Steve had nightmares too. But they didn't matter. Bucky was worse off than him. He had terrors, he was

He couldn't tell Bucky the stories. The nightmares. Steve's fears, anxieties, they were small, they were ground anxieties. Bucky's reached the sun and the stars. His made sense, Steve's didn't. He was Captain America. He couldn't have panic attacks, he couldn't have PTSD, he couldn't faint in panic because the shower turned cold because someone was using the hot water. He was Captain America. He was brave, he was strong. He was noble. He had no fears. His life was no fear, it was hope. His being was hope. He couldn't show fear. That wasn't him. It wasn't him.

Steven Rogers wasn't sad. He protected Bucky. He was there for Bucky. He was there for his friend, his partner. He was there to help him, he was there to be with him. He was there to help. Steven couldn't have a weakness, he couldn't be a weakness. He just couldn't.

He had to be strong for his friends. He had to be a strong person. He was a strong person. He wasn't weak. He was mentally fine. He was strong. He wasn't allowed to be weak because he was Captain America, he was strong, he was Captain America after all. He was hope. He was freedom. He was happiness to the people. He was hope for the people. He was a symbol of happiness, of freedom, of so much good. He was Captain America.

"Steve," Bucky was in the doorway. Steve blinked a few times. He was in the bathroom, hands gripping the sink tightly, eyes bloodshot. He was sweating, he was shaking. He wasn't okay. But he had to be. He had to be okay.

"Steve, you don't have to…You're allowed to be scared. I'm scared all the time. All your friends are scared, you can see it in their eyes."

"It's different." He mumbled. He didn't have to look at Bucky to know he was shaking his head, to know he was disagreeing.

"No, it's not. You can still feel fear. You're still human. Don't lose touch with yourself."

 ** _He does a little thing with her eye that says, "we're off soon."_**

Steve was a dancer. Bucky was not a dancer. Steve didn't care. He loved the closeness. He loved holding this amazing man close to him, dancing together in time. He loved being close to him, Bucky's real arm rubbing his back, and his metal arm holding his hand. They danced in time, Steve leading, even though Bucky had the mans position. They were close, and Steve was so happy with him. Bucky's long hair tickled his neck when he brought his lips close to his ear, to whisper a shitty joke in his ear. Steve mumbled back that he needed to wash his hair, saying it was greasy and revolting.

Bucky only said to make me. So he did. Picking up his, partner, and walking him to the bathroom. Bucky doesn't even protest, laying somewhat limp against Steve, making it difficult for him to carry the man. But he didn't mind. Bucky was calm, he was calm. Bucky was happy, he was happy. Steve felt content. So content with himself. He felt happy when he sat Bucky in the bathroom, and locked the door, running the bath. He felt content when Bucky ran his arms over his torso, kissing him gently.

Steve felt so happy, when he sat Bucky down, washing his hair, Bucky leaning against Steve's legs. Bucky was smiling, mumbling jokes about how Steve was taking care of him he used to as a kid. Steve responded by splashing Bucky with water. Bucky didn't splash him in response, but instead pulled him into the bath, gently. Bucky was facing him now, and he forgot when exactly their pants come off, Bucky was so hard up against him, kissing roughly in the water. Steve couldn't remember how it exactly happened, but Bucky's voice whispered in his ears as their bodies pulled close, whispering soft "is this okay?" He was gentle, and Steve felt loved. He nodded to each question Bucky asked, and it was gentle. It hadn't happened in so long, but he felt stretched and so pleasured. And now they were panting against each other in the bedroom, Bucky's hair still not completely washed (which Steve pulled him into the bathroom to wash his hair completely with conditioner. Bucky just kissed him when he finished (both times)).

 ** _He says the bleeding's incidental 'cause she's so cool_**

Steven Grant Rogers was not weak. He didn't drink like Tony, he didn't dissociate like Clint, he didn't have anger issues like Bruce, he didn't freak out at the possibility of anything like Thor. He didn't dance like crazy like Natasha. He wasn't weak. They weren't weak, but he wasn't like the. He was fine. He was 100% okay. It didn't matter that he couldn't sleep, no one could sleep. And he didn't need sleep, he was a super solider for gods sakes, sleep wasn't something he needed. He had his habits, but they were good ones. He ran once a day, for a few hours because it felt good and it took a while to actually tire (thanks to his altered genes). Steve was normal. He wasn't traumatised. He was just, normal. He didn't need others to calm him down. He wasn't like Tony who clung to Pepper some nights, attached to her like he was a lost puppy. He wasn't like Natasha who glared and a lost her head the second someone got close. He had his walls, but he wasn't intense. He was fine.

He wasn't weak. He was fine. He was completely fine. Even sitting, thinking. He was fine. He thought about death, but that was normal. He wasn't sure if he minded dying, but he didn't mind _not_ dying.

But he was fine. Steve Rogers wasn't depressed. He wasn't suicidal. He wasn't like he knew Stark was, no matter how much he denied it. He wasn't like he knew Natasha was, even when she denied it. He was the supporter of the group. He took care of them, Tony took care of their physical health, and Steve took care of the Avengers mental health. He couldn't be this way. He just couldn't.

Steven Rogers was fine. He took deep breathes at night, calmed himself. He didn't get drunk (because he couldn't). He ran through his nightmares, punched the bags until he passed out. He was so fine, and he hated the feeling. But he couldn't be weak. He wasn't allowed to be weak. He was Captain _fucking_ America. He didn't have a weakness, he didn't have anxiety. He didn't have depression. He didn't have PTSD. Steve Rogers wasn't any of those things. He was perfectly 100% fine.

 ** _He says it's not fun if you've only a bottle of wine_**

Tony was the first person to realise he was bad. He wasn't sure if it was luck, or if Tony was dealing with his own stuff, but Steve was awake at 4 am, working out because it was the only thing that calmed his mind. Tony waltzed into the room, his eyes not registering Steve, and working out himself. It was weird, Steve guessed. He never pegged Tony as one to work out, but he didn't mind the company. He loved it, in fact. He loved and hated silence, and he loved and hated being alone. Now the room was filled with the pants from both men, working out to different paces.

"You're not alone, you know that?" Tony said between a break (for him). Steve didn't reply. "I'm not here to talk about my deep seeded secrets, and my trauma and, and so on." Steve stopped, looking at Tony. Tony was not looking at him, instead focusing on his hands, moving them together. Steve didn't know how to react. Tony usually only spoke to him in anger or distrust. He was connecting with him or trying to help.

Steve didn't know if he actually wanted to compare scars, which is what he was guessing Tony was trying to do. Tony was closed, but Steve was more.

"What do you mean?" He managed to get out.

"I mean, you aren't alone. I get them too. Not breathing and…such." Steve watched as his…friend he guessed, squirmed uncomfortably. He was trying to help him. But he didn't need fucking help. He was Captain America. He didn't need help, he helped others.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not, Cap. I hate to say it, but we all have issues. We are all suffering. We are tired and exhausted. Heroes can have issues too. We can have nightmares and panic attacks too. We're still human."

"I'm not."

"Super soldier serum or not, you still have emotions." Tony sounded frustrated. "I'm not the happiest person, as you may have guessed. Nat has serum as well, Steve. So does Clint, Thor's a fucking god, and he has issues. You need to realise you aren't above us. You have issues too. Fucking accept it. I'm trying to help you feel better, I'm trying to compare scars. Stop holding yourself above us, and thinking you can't have issues because you're Captain _fucking_ America. Allow us to help, allow us to compare scars. Allow us to have issues as well, and allow yourself to have issues. I'm going upstairs, this conversation is over. Come and find me when you've changed your mind. Have fun."

Steve stood, opened mouthed as Tony walked out the door, slamming the door behind him. He had just pissed of Iron Man more than he had ever pissed him off. He didn't know what to do. And now he could just think of what he had said.

Maybe he did need to think. Maybe he needed help.

 ** _And now he's doing it all the time; yeah, he's doing it all the time_**

He didn't realise how many bags he went through. The punches calmed the threatening panic attacks, the bombs and guns that play through his head. Each punch calmed the threaten sounds, turning them down.

He hated that he could hear the sounds still. He hated that he was weak. He was weak, and he needed a way out. He couldn't tell Bucky what was going on, but he swears Bucky knew. He knew he watched him, stood somewhere and watched Steve work out, destroy bag after bag. He hated blue now too. It reminded him of that fucking ice that he crashed into. The ice that tore apart his life. The ice that stopped him from knowing Peggy as she grew old, the ice that stopped him from saving Bucky from Hydra.

He didn't realise that he must have told Bucky that he hated blue because he calm into his room one day and it was all green. Bucky acted like he didn't know, so did Tony. So did Banner. Everyone. Everyone acted like they didn't know like they didn't realise his room was now green.

He secretly loved that his friends did that. That they pretended they didn't know. He didn't want them to know. He wasn't weak. He wasn't weak.

 _Punch_

His mind flicked back, he was running again. His vision was blurred, he couldn't see clearly. There was shouting, gun shots firing.

 _Punch_

Peggy's voice was in his ear, her hands rubbing his bare back, her chest against his back.

 _Punch_

Bucky was laughing, his face was clear, but everything else was blurred. He could only focus on Bucky's face. His happy face. Orders that Steve couldn't understand were barked, French being mumbled at him, forcing him to go, fly.

 _Punch_

He walked down the train, Bucky following him shortly after. He could only hear his breathing. Bucky's breathing. Steve wasn't worried about himself. He had Serum. He could handle getting shot. Not Bucky.

 _Punch_

The door slammed behind him. Bucky was trapped. His vision was blurry again, fading in and out like a poor movie. Voices were muffled like they were yelling through thick glass. The sounds of shots rung through his ears again.

 _Punch_

"I had him on the ropes." Is all he heard clearly. Movement again, blurred, fast movement. Bucky was behind him, then he wasn't.

 _Punch_

Bucky was there. It was clear again. There was a flash of blue. And he was gone. Out the window.

 _Punch_

"BUCKY!" He saw him. His friend. His friend. Bucky was falling, screaming.

 _Punch_

"Steve." He kept punching. He was on autopilot.

 _Punch_

He was falling. Bucky was falling. He was dying. He could see him, screaming for help. Screaming. He was gone. Bucky was gone.

He punched the bag harder and it went flying.

"Steve. I'm right here." He turned. Bucky was there, watching him carefully. He could barely see. Everything was blurred, foggy. His earing was muffled still. He didn't understand what was happening. "I'm here. It's okay, just sit down. Breathe with me, okay?"

 ** _Slow down; yeah I want you_**

When Steve stopped, when he stopped and rested and thought. He realised he wasn't so Normally he was okay with it, he'd stay in the shallow end, or sit in the spa and just relax. Let the warm water heal his sore muscles.

On a particularly bad day, he couldn't get in the water. After a night of horrific nightmares (all of Bucky, his Bucky, falling and of him falling into the water), he didn't think he could stomach it. He sat on the outside of the pool, positioning himself next to Tony. Tony wasn't focusing on him, watching the water with suspicion eyes, almost light it was going to jump out and attack him.

And then it hit him. Tony hated water. Tony was terrified of water. Steve hated water, he was terrified of deep, cold water. Suddenly, Steve didn't feel as weak. He didn't feel as bad. He felt weirdly good. He shared a fear with his teammate, his fellow Avenger. Steve wasn't weak. Steve had a reasonable fear. He was terrified. He didn't understand why, maybe it was because he was trapped in the ice for 70 years, maybe it was because his head was constantly messing with him, making him question his reality, making him question if he was real if anyone was real if this was a nightmare? It made him question that if it was a dream, would he wake up next to Peggy or Bucky?

"Looking at something, Rogers?" Tony quipped. Steve smiled at him, and Tony gave him a weird glare.

"I just realised something. We both hate the water." Tony looked instantly uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. Steve wanted to quickly speak over whatever Tony was going to say, try to get across that it didn't mean anything, and he wasn't trying to pry into his life (for some reason that man had more walls than himself.

"You're in the water constantly." He taunted.

"Have you ever seen me in the deep end?" Steve asked. Tony was silent, pausing for a moment, thinking. He turned around to Steve, almost slowly. "I'm comparing scars." Another moment of silence before Stark spoke.

"Let's get a drink."

 ** _He does a little bit on the sly that shows what he's up to; He started talking about missing him_**

Bucky knew he wasn't doing well. He watched Steve, watch him walk, watched him talk. It was all too similar to before. To when he was a kid when his parents died and he was utterly destroyed. It was too similar to pulling him close during the night, holding the freezing boy.

Now? Steve was doing the same. Laughing, talking. Head nods showing he was good. But it was all an act. Bucky knew it, and Bucky was sure all the other avengers knew as well. He was hiding his true feelings. Bucky knew he was upset. He knew through skype calls, where he talked softly to him, and zoned in and out of reality. Bucky could see Steve slipping. He had messaged Natasha and the Avengers multiple times, explaining what he was seeing, asking them to watch Steve. But nothing would help him. Steve was destroying himself from the inside, and he couldn't hold him tightly.

Seeing Steve, through skype, watch TV (because they couldn't actually sit and cuddle so skyping was the next best thing), seeing his eyes go blank, seeing him fading in and out. Watching Steve fall asleep all the time. Bucky asked him daily if he was sleeping enough, and he stated he did. He had enough, he was sleeping. But he didn't believe him.

Natasha said she saw him working out a lot, running, punching trees, doing anything to work out. And it scared him shitless. The Serum let him stay up longer than others, but he could easily crash. He hadn't seen it before, but he knew how bad it could affect him. He could crash, and he would sleep for a long time. And it would put everyone in danger.

Bucky Barnes was really worried about Steve.

 ** _He was glistening; it won't mend your heart if it's only a couple of lines_**

He would never admit that he stood on the top of Stark tower (now deemed Avengers tower), and looked down on the running highway. He would never admit that he yelled at Sharon Carter, asking to know why she hides that her Aunt was Peggy. He would never admit that he sat, stayed for ages in that Church. He would never admit (to anyone but perhaps Nat) how much he needed her there. When she walked into that church and pulled him into a tight hug, he was grateful.

He made her promise to never say how much he cried into her shoulder, as she stood in silence, rubbing circles to calm him.

Tony was never allowed to say that he walked in on him, sitting on top of the tower. He didn't think Tony would ever admit it either. He didn't know why he went there, why he sat on the tower when he should have signed those stupid accords, or been anywhere else but around Tony.

He would never admit to anyone that he wanted to throw himself off that bloody tower when Peggy, his last tie to his old world, died. He would never admit to anyone how much he needed her alive. How much seeing her face, having her there, there alive, tied him down. Kept him grounded, allowed him to stay afloat when he couldn't swim.

He would never admit that he snuck to Peggy's grave on her birthday, and sat with her gravestone, leaning his head on it, mumbling to it what was going on. He would never admit that he told her he was terrified because being bisexual wasn't an issue anymore. He loved Peggy, he always would. But he loved Bucky for awhile first. Peggy changed his mind, but knowing he was alive again, realising that Bucky was still alive? He would never admit, that in scared whispers, he told her grave he thinks he liked Bucky, he wanted to be with Bucky.

He wouldn't admit that in the cold, he would walk from the group, miles and miles, to sit by her grave. Tell her that Bucky had to go under, he had to go under in Wakanda, so he wouldn't hurt anyone. He wouldn't admit how terrified he was, how scared he was of this strange world that he still couldn't get his head wrapped around. It didn't make any sense to him, and he wasn't sure if he wanted it to make sense.

He never told anyone (but Natasha in a moment of sheer weakness and starvation for human touch) how shitty he felt. He would never admit that as a kid, whenever Bucky was gone, he would sit in the corner, panicking, crying, because he knew nothing else. Bucky was his rock as a kid, as the scrawy kid with all these issues.

He would never admit that he wanted to call Tony and ask if he was okay, how he was coping. He would never admit that he still cared for Tony. Or that he wanted to check up on him, check to make sure he was eating, or if he was back with Pepper (she kept him sane, the two's bond stretched far enough once for Tony to drunkenly explain that Pepper was the only thing keeping him from killing himself).

But most of all, Steve would never admit that he held a gun to his head, but couldn't press the trigger.

 ** _And now he's doing it all the time;_**

Peggy held his hand, rubbing circles, muttering how sorry she was. Holding his hand so tightly as he struggled to stand without swaying.

Captain America was grieving for his best friend. Grieving in front of everyone that sat around him. Grieving in front of all of America.

"I'm so sorry." She mumbled in his ear. He couldn't respond to her. He didn't know how to. Bucky was gone. His Bucky. His first love, the boy who had raised him and helped him grow. Bucky, who was so selfless and helped everyone in his site. He was gone. Bucky was gone.

He only knew to drink. It didn't affect him as much. He wished he could say it affected him as much as it use to, but he never drunk before. Now? He had so many mixed emotions, he had no idea how to deal with it anymore. He sat, and he drunk. Downed drink after drink, trying to hide how destroyed he was that Bucky Barnes was dead. He had fallen. He was so fucking gone. He was suicidal for a moment. When his parents died, he wanted to die. He guessed he wanted to die again. Losing Bucky was crushing. Losing his safehold, his rock, his sanity. It sent him into a spiral of drinking his nights away, even if it didn't work. It sent him into a spiral of laying on roof tops and basically begging for his death

Getting the news of the location of Hydra, he was there. He was fighting again, pushing all of his emotions out and killing without reason, without caring. He was fighting for Bucky. Fighting for the murder of his friend. Everything moved so fast, so fast. He didn't truly understand what was going on, but he did it.

Steve was on autopilot. He didn't register what was going on. He was fighting, and he was winning. He was winning for Bucky. For Peggy. He was fighting for his two loves. For the loves of his life, and for the happiness of them. He was fighting for the hope and freedom of the world.

He only registered what was happening when he was about to die. Hearing Peggy's last words to him, her shaking voice, and her fear. He mumbled lines out to her, mumbling that he loved her (in his own way). He thought he would panic when he hit the ice, but a strange calmness washed over him. He had always been a depressed kid, he had never been happy. And he was suicidal again. Maybe his death coming so soon was comforting. Maybe it was good for him.

Maybe he was happy that he was dying.

Steve Rogers had no idea that he would wake up again.

 ** _Yeah, he's doing it all the time; Yeah, he's doing it all the time_**

Steve had habits. Bucky saw it first. Watching Steve tap the table several times, closing a door and tapping it one, two, three, four times. Each time he opened or closed something he would tap the handle four times.

Peggy noticed as well. She watched him wash his hands before he touched her, washed his hands after. He would wash his hands four times a day. She watched him almost fall into a panic when he couldn't wash his hands on the field.

Bucky noticed that Steve would get extremely anxious. He watched as Steve counted out loud, tapping on things, counting to four. Doing everything he did in periods of fours. Running at 4 am, for four hours. He would sit and eat for 2 hours.

He was bad when he was sadder. Around the times of his parent's deaths, or deaths of friends, Steve lost himself to the habits.

Steve honestly thought he was good at hiding his habits. He hardly realised he had these habits. He didn't realise that he did these things, and he thought they were normal. He didn't realise until Peggy pointed it out one day, asking why he washed his hands. He stated that he was dirty, and he didn't want to get sick.

Perhaps, being a sick kid hadn't helped his mental stability. He uses to constantly worry about what was going into his food, what was touching his hands, his body. He had to take medications in fours. The connections were easy to make. It was old habits he couldn't kick, habits that effected his mental health horrifically.

In the 21st century, he found out what he had was called "OCD". He hadn't heard of it and almost laughed when Fury brought it up, saying there was medication for it. Medication to make it easier to deal with. He denied it, but it became bad. Without Peggy, without Bucky, his habits got out of control. He couldn't rip himself away from washing his hands until they were raw. He ran for 4 hours, at 4 am. If he finished at 8:01, he had to run for another two hours. If he had things, the amount of food had to be in groups of four, or be divisible by four. If not? He had to add food. It was out of hand, and he wasn't sure how to handle it.

But he didn't have to handle it. Fury helped, sat Steve down and explained the medication, explained that Howard had made it for Tony (and added almost as an afterthought that if he brought it up with Tony, then, well. He just really shouldn't bring it up with Tony).

 ** _Yeah, he's doing it all the time; Yeah, he's doing it all the time_**

Natasha was asleep, and he was sitting at the fire. Watching the flames flicker. He was thinking. Thinking of his mistakes, thinking of the past year of massive mistakes. A year of regret.

A year he wanted to replay so badly, take back everything that had happened. He wished he could take it all back. Change the year, go back and slap his younger self for being reckless and stupid.

"Steve?" Natasha was looking at him. "You okay?"

"I think we messed up, Natasha."

"What do you mean?"

He hung his head, waiting for her to speak again. Hoping she would prompt him on what he was going to say, praying she thought that say way he did. She didn't speak. She was waiting for him. Natasha wasn't exactly one to put yourself out on a limb; "With the accords." He mumbled. "We should have signed."

Silence.

"Maybe."

"No, please don't play middle ground. We should have signed. Tony was trying to help, he was trying to stop us from destroying other cultures, destroying villages. I've…I've looked into some stuff. He and Pepper are broken up, still –"

"Oh."

"The Avengers have accidentally killed so many people, in trying to help. We've injured so many people. I think it was tearing him apart. It's starting to tear me apart. I convinced myself it was for the greater good, that the damage was for the good of everyone. I hide what was really happening in the back of my head. We should have signed, Nat. We should have signed."

"We thought that there were more Winter Soldiers."

"And that would have been dealt with. But we didn't realise. We could have easily told Tony that, explained why we were against it. We could have negotiated the accords. We fucked up. We really fucked up."

"Language." She mumbled. Steve didn't laugh in response.

"How can we fix this?" He asked. Natasha didn't reply, she simply shook her head. He groaned, laying down on the ground, holding his hands to his eyes. He knew Tony was suffering. He knew Tony was having a hard time. He knew everything, and he was so obsessed with finding Winter Soldiers to try and stop the war, to try and stop the violence.

He had only fucked everything up. He'd only messed everything up. He had tried to stop, he'd tried to do the good, but he had only done bad. And then it was the guilt. The aching, painful guilt. He was headstrong, he was brave, he was Captain America. He was stubborn, and he was intelligent. But he wished he could have done something different.

Steve blamed himself. He always blamed himself for everything that he had done. He blamed the hardships of everyone in his team on him.

It was his fault.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed xx**

 **~ Georgia**


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